If Love Could Have Saved You
by Vampykitty-kun
Summary: Had I not acted when I had I would have never gained a name. I'd have never become a Gundam pilot, never would have returned to Earth. Wouldn't have joined up with the circus, and worst of all… I'd have never met you. 3x4 Trowa POV, Life of Trowa Barton.
1. Chapter 1

Hello!

Well I've set off to do what I swore I never would… a 3 x 4 fan fiction - . –'

I've never really supported Gundam Wing Yaoi, although I've willingly read/watched/and written it for other fandoms, but could never really see it working in Gundam wing. Slowly but surely however, I've found that it's very plausible in regards to Quatre, and eventually decided that I could swing Trowa either way.

So here we are. A 3 x 4 fic that in years past never would have happened. I hope you enjoy it!

Just to spice things up and make it difficult on myself, the whole shebang will be done from Trowa's POV, and will start from the very beginning, lol.

This will be an in depth several chapter fic, so read and review, so I know what you all think!

~VPK

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I have had my fair share of hardships in the past, and have shed countless tears.

As far back as I can remember, I have been alone. Nameless, homeless, without possessions. I was just a little thing, filthy, with tattered clothes, and unkempt hair. Constantly cold, despite the day's temperature. Always covered in scrapes and bruises. Always hungry.

To this day, I am amazed that I survived childhood, even if just barely.

I cannot begin to imagine how I ended up as I did, for I believe I was far too young to be capable of such memories. In my earliest of days, I recall being on my own, in the middle of nowhere. Days were spent in silence, scavenging for edible food, and locating shelter to spend the night. Many days were spent in the previous night's shelter, ill from eating one thing or another not agreeable to the human body. It was during these dark times that my only 'companionship', and neighbors were the local wildlife. Coexisting was challenging at times, but after an eternity of silence, one begins to understand thoughts, movements, expressions of Earth's creatures, and such things are absorbed like a sponge by a young child. To this day, I fully believe that I understand, and relate to animals far better than the common man, but again, animals are far simpler creatures.

I do not know my own age. I have no tangible birth date. No birth certificates, no forms of identification. A single identifying mark, a large burn, is all that manages to separate me from the rest of the galaxy's population. With so little to go on, it helps me none. I can only make an educated guess at my age, based on my mental capabilities and height during those rough years as a child. I assume that I was four or five when I stumbled across the vast world of mankind, when I left the woodlands and stumbled down the streets of Berlin.

It is surprising to say that several days passed before the local civilians caught on to my predicament, before they noticed just how ragged and tiny I looked, and that I was without a doubt unsupervised. My knowledge of language at this time was minimal, and thinking back I cannot recall words tossed at me by the townsfolk. I learned to avoid human contact as much as humanly possible, having been kicked around like a common dog by those it brag amusement. Solitude in the city of Berlin did not last long, much to my dismay. I was snatched up almost as soon as people caught on, forced into the back of a rickety truck with several other children of various ages.

For several months, routine was an important way of life. The lot of us were tossed out each morning with the goal of acquiring cash, jewelry, and anything else of value we could get our tiny hands on. With time, one becomes adept at thievery. Although I can whole heartedly agree that this was one of the roughest patches of my life, I can confidently say that this time of my life prepared me for the onslaught of chaos, and the fight for survival later on in my existence. I do admit whole heartedly that these days were accompanied by tearful nights, but as the saying goes, what does not kill you indeed makes you stronger.

I gradually picked up on language. Tidbits of German and English, here and there. Food was acquired solely as reward for the day's findings, for if it was discovered that we had eaten throughout the day, the repercussions were severe. For myself, the days of eating when hungry were yearned for, and although pain followed the deviations from orders, old habits were near impossible to break. Stealth was learned in effort to avoid being caught, as more times than not, it would result in being not only punished by the captor, but by the men who resided where we called home. I remained small and frail. New clothes came with growing, but were still nothing more than oversized rags. My hair nearly always unkempt and matted with dirt, body constantly covered in bruises. I was never given a name, I was simply _'das kind'_.

After nearly a year of such treatment, I simply decided that anything could be better, and that I had learned enough from my atrocious experience. I wanted to acquire more knowledge. I wanted that ability to eat when hungry, without repercussions once again. I wanted to gain standing in the food chain, the bug of a child I had become was not satisfying. Perhaps in another life I could have been a child prodigy. I believe I was wise beyond years for my young age.

I left town one morning after our release into the crowd, and never looked back. Perhaps it was fate that I choose this particular morning to head out on my own? Regardless, I had barely exited city limits before a military caravan passed me by. Or rather, all but one truck did. As I walked alongside the road in all my gangly glory, a vehicle from the train of trucks slowed, and eventually pulled to the side of the road, letting the others pass. Although I did not realize it at the time, this event sealed my future. A tall man exited the truck, and I was intrigued as he stared at me from across the dirt road.

"_Hey Kid, what's your name?" _Was uttered from his lips. Although I had picked up bits of the German and English language, I was not the slightest bit fluent in either, but 'name' was a word I knew well, and it did not apply to me. I shook my head sadly at the man, and before I could turn and carry on my way, a hand was stretched out to me. _"No-name, huh… c'mon, we can feed you, at least."_

These were perhaps the kindest words ever spoken to me at the time, even if I had not fully understood them.

I traveled with the group of rebels. For the first time, I ate proper meals, owned and wore clean, and proper fitting clothes. It was paradise, compared to all that I knew.

Perhaps the greatest change in scenery was the men around me. Various ages, ethnicities, different backgrounds, but all so very willing to teach, and so very talkative even though I was seemed near mute. Human interaction at the time was foreign to me, but within our close knit group, I welcomed it. Language came far easier than I had hoped, perhaps due to near constant one on one attention. I was the only child, the youngest after me in his mid-twenties. Looking back, I was perhaps their pet, and for some a reminder of the families they had lost. Within two short years, I was as fluent as a child can be in both English and German, and had picked up on bits of a handful of other languages spoken throughout the group. I had learned to read, and books quickly became my 'best friend'. I studied, and unlike most children my age, I rather enjoyed it. I was so very smart, and the soldiers realized this early on.

After a few seemingly short months, they began to coach me in repairs. I was perhaps one of very few children across the galaxy capable of taking apart and reassembling a motor, let alone able to do so in a rapid manner. Loading and unloading bullets, as well as assembling firearms came almost naturally. I became a live in stock boy, and did not mind it so much. I was never hungry, rarely sore, and I was no longer constantly cold. I suppose even at such a young age I was foolish to think things would last.

Before a single year had passed, the fighting began. Gone were the days that the resident men would go off on small and overall meaningless missions. The seriousness never fully hit me until the enemy infiltrated our camp one night, where our belongings were set ablaze; I had to watch as several good men fell, never to rise again. It was perhaps the first time I became truly upset. As the bodies of our fallen were taken care of, and much of the remaining men salvaged what they could of the burnt mess, I had fallen into a fit of hysterics. I was comforted by the very man that had allowed me to travel with them.

Through my tears I managed a "How could they! _Fürchterlich!" _Before sobbing into the man's jacket.

The wisest, most life changing statement was uttered from his understanding lips.

"Then change it. Make a difference."

I decided then and there that I would do all I could to do just that.

I spent the next several years concentrating on nothing but my studies, and assisting the small military group in any way I could prove useful. I put my old stealth training to good use, evolving it, infiltrating enemy camps. I became more agile. I grew, not only in height, but at long last I filled out. The soldiers trained me in hand to hand combat, and taught me how to use countless tools of weaponry. I moved up from repairing motors, to constructing full vehicles. After a time, they introduced me to the fine world of mobile suits, and took full advantage of my skills. By the time I entered my supposed teen years, I was joining them on their missions, incased in the cockpit of my very own Leo model mobile suit.

My self-studies never wavered throughout the years. Although I never once had any sort of formal education, I was far more advanced than typical children of my age group. I repaired the group's Leo suits. I could defeat every single one of them in an intense game of chess. I self-taught myself to play the flute with a few ragged old books, and a comrade's antique sterling silver Gemeinhardt model, for no other reason than to have something to do. I began to study martial arts, and gymnastics along with it, anything to make my movements more fluid, and my body more flexible. If I was ever forced into hand to hand combat, I was confident that being able to avoid the enemy's grasp by any means would secure my victory, and survival.

As time passed, the battles grew in intensity, and the intervals between slowly began to decrease, putting great strain on the soldiers. Our supplies dwindled, and funds began to dry up. One year, after losing several men, full blown war began. The attacks came virtually every day. We found ourselves completely unable to trust any outsiders, and could only go into town individually. Food stores thinned out, and rationing began. I suppose I should be thankful, as the soldiers always insisted I stay well fed, as I was a growing boy, but I wasn't, and often found myself uninterested in food, knowing it should be going to more deserving men.

After some time, the days were executed almost robotically. I carried out missions silently. I followed my orders. I ate when food was available, and I was truly hungry. I bathed. I slept. Completely, and utterly all routine, never ending. I accepted that this was simply my life, and that was fine. I never expected anything to change.

But change is inevitable.

It started with her arrival.

During a particularly risky mission, my Leo suit's maneuvering abilities were hindered by an explosion, so I abandoned ship. My fellow mercenaries would retrieve it after the battle, and I could make the necessary repairs at a later time, within the safety of our camp. The foliage was thick, and camp a good two miles from the battle scene. The last thing I was expecting was to run into a civilian girl, or so I had thought at the time. Perhaps against my better judgment, I took her with me. The years of having lived out on my own had clouded my judgment. Wanting to rescue the girl from a life I had already lived came too naturally. The human mind is flawed… we carry emotions.

Upon our arrival the camp, the rebels grilled her for information, until they had seemingly accepted her. I could feel their accusatory gaze on my back as I went about maintenance. Most were displeased with my decision to bring and outsider to their safe hold. Other seemed to care less. Some were pleased to have another young face flitting about camp, especially that of a female.

She introduced herself as Midii Une, but left it at that. She showed no sign of wishing to speak of her past, and I did not press her. Much of our time together was spent in silence, but I couldn't help but be drawn to her. Without saying so, I knew she was like myself, simply living just to live.

The soldiers became restless, but not due to her presence. The small rebel group was fraying at the seams, and everyone could tell that if we were not careful in the future, we would be ripped apart. Talk of joining the alliance erupted now and then, but the upper ranks put those fires out almost as quickly as they would begin. I repaired my suit, as well as several other soldiers'. Midii kept to herself mostly, playing with a small handheld video game looped around her neck. She helped the cooking staff prepare dinner each night, and rather than sleep in the trucks, mobile suits, or the hammock systems set up around camp, she slept on the canvas backings of the trucks. We looked at the stars together one night... and both agreed that space would likely be more welcoming than Earth. She tried her hardest to avoid looking me in the eyes. I'm sure that if she had, I'd have seen her for the liar she was… or perhaps I would have ignored it? I told her honestly one day, that we were the same. I'm not sure she ever fully grasped those words.

After several days, she came up to me while I was working. She was cheerful, and anyone could see that as an improvement. She gave me a simple silver cross, and told me that God would protect me. I was skeptical from the start, but having grown up as I had, but I was not one to turn down a gift. She insisted that she still didn't like me however. I didn't take this personally.

We continued on with our travels, as staying in once place for too long was never smart. We passed a traveling circus on the second day, and I watched the workers tend the animals and tent as we passed. I made a mental note of the group's name, for future reference. Little did I know, I'd meet up with them again several years later… Regardless, Midii thought I looked nostalgic. Perhaps I somehow was.

We made it to our next destination early the next morning, and set up camp. Our next mission began shortly after breakfast.

We were ambushed. The enemy knew where we would be, when we would be there, and a handful of our own men turned on us when we least expected it, likely having turned double agents when they had first started speaking of joining the alliance. I watched as the men who raised me fought with one another, it was eye opening, at the time. I learned that I could trust no one but myself.

In effort to save the man who very well might have saved mine by taking me in, I slaughtered the traitors without so much as blinking an eye. I was never looked at the same way by the remaining soldiers ever again. They thought me not human by my actions. I was simply destroying the enemy before me, and in doing so, they survived…I survived.

Midii chastised me, but it was only half-heartedly. She understood me far more than she would likely ever know. To this day, only one other can truly say they knew me as well as I know myself, but unlike Midii, they know to what extent…

Midii thought I should cry. Show any type of emotion. But alas, I had had my fair share of sadness, of tears, as a small child. She asked how long I would continue to mask my emotions... I responded honestly.

"Until the day I die."

There was little rest between our battle with the traitors, and the following battle that would be my first massacre witnessed. The enemy came at us from all sides, destroying the camp, and giving our remaining men little time to make it to their mobile suits. Many never did. I knew right away that there would be no winning the battle, and with one last glance at the men whom I had called family, and the camp I had called home, I made my escape. I appropriated the first vehicle I came upon, an old model motorcycle, and fled the scene.

I was a smart child… I always knew the risks of a situation, the behind the scene plots carried out behind my back. It took little to realize the true culprit of the situation, and as the scenery sped past, I caught her form out of the corner of my eye, and brought the bike to a skidding halt. I could see the pain and dismay in her watery blue eyes as she looked up at me in wonder.

"Grab on!" I had shouted almost desperately. Knowing full well that this girl had been the cause to all the chaos erupting around us should have led me to wish for her death in the carnage she herself was responsible for, but I could not bring myself to wish it. Midi Une, if that had been her true name, was far too like myself in so many ways. I could not bring myself to hate her, knowing she must have a reason for doing what she had. Knowing she likely had no other choice but to do what she must. Knowing that like me, she had no one to care for her.

Knowing this, had I chosen to kill her, I would have had to have been willing to kill myself. How many countless others had I slaughtered myself, for the sake of a mission? Men that could have very well had families, people that they were simply trying to support? Whereas Midi had done nothing but pass information, causing the deaths of many, I had murdered with my own hands, thus making myself far worse than she.

With defeat in her heart, she told me she would not thank me for saving her. That she was worthless, and her death would mean little. I told her, neither was I.

I pulled over on the side of the road, several miles away from the burning camp. Far off in the distant, the distinct shapes of the Leo suits in midst of battle could be seen. I watched solemnly as the numbers dropped rapidly, and flames continued to lick at the surrounding trees. It took less than an hour to decimate our troops… less than an hour for the enemy to move in, obliterating everything, and move out. We spent the time in silence, only watching, and when the battle was truly over, we rode back to the scene of the crime, dreading the result we would find.

There were no survivors… the entire Leo fleet lay in ruins atop the burnt remains of the camp. Bodies littered the ground, but I paid little attention. I sought out the remains of only one, the man that had given me refuge. I suppose I was relieved to find him relatively undamaged in his death, unlike the mangled bodies lying elsewhere.

I crouched before his body, silently remembering the good times we had had together. Midii stood behind me, watching my every move. I suppose she already knew at the time that I had figured everything out, but she never once tried to escape. Perhaps she truly had been wishing for her own death.

I turned to her after a while, and took in her appearance. On this day, she wore a mask similar to my own, void of emotion. Her straw colored hair was disheveled from the bike ride, her clothes covered in soot and dirt from the attack… but her eyes betrayed her. Her eyes revealed the turmoil within.

"How much did they pay you?" I asked, taking every shift of emotion and body placement.

Quite bluntly, and unwavering, she clench her game in her fist.

"Enough to feed three little brothers and a sick father." She had muttered, staring me down, still void of any true fear

In response, I stated the obvious, for nothing more than confirmation of my hypothesis.

"That handheld game was a transmitter… the alliance was following our every move."

She confirmed my suspicions immediately. "That's right." She had said "and once again YOU are the only survivor." An obvious statement, but the way she had said this had my thought in an uproar. Although it was I who had saved her, somehow, she knew that I would have survived. I was puzzled briefly, before the answer hit me. I wrenched the crucifix from my neck, and tossed it to the ground, angry with myself with not having realized things sooner.

"Because of this?" I spat harshly. Midi only smiled.

"Guess what? That crucifix is also a transmitter." Much to my dismay, she confirmed what I had been dreading. I had help aid the slaughter of my comrades, by trusting her too willingly. I pulled my pistol out of its holster and pointed it at her, a small growl slipping from my lips. She seemed almost relieved. "So even you can get mad sometimes..." she had muttered. Before I could respond, she had continued. "You said before that I was like you… but that wasn't true." And she was wrong, because even then I felt that she was. "I'm not as fortunate as you…" She murmured.

I became puzzled, and I am sure that it showed openly on my face. "I'm fortunate?" I had asked.

"There's nothing that ties you down." She had murmured, lifting the handheld device from around her neck. "You have no name, no past… and now no comrades." She stated quite simply, and I had watched as the tears began to pool in her eyes. "I have a name, Midii Une. I have a sick father, and three younger brothers." I had watched as she slowly fell apart, and although I kept my pistol pointed in her direction, my hard gaze fell. "I couldn't have survived this long without becoming a spy and getting all of these people killed! I can't even tell the person I love how I feel about him! Do you know why!" She had sobbed openly, willing me to understand. "Because I'm not EMPTY like you! I'm filled with emotions… my family! My job! My guilt!"

I understood… I really did. We were so alike, there was no possible way for her unsaid words to not register in the back of my mind. No matter how hard she tried to deny our similarities, they were what gave her away in the end. I knew how she felt, once I thought about it. Her random kind gestures… the long lasting looks... the sorrow she felt for what she had done. Somehow, at t our young age, she had found a way to love me… and although I recognized her feelings for what they were in those last few moments, I knew there was no way for me to return them. At the time, I felt incapable of love. I felt as though it was a feeling not meant for me, that I was simply in existence to fight for those who could not. I felt that if I had been meant to love, that I would have been raised by parents, rather than have grown up on the streets, fighting for my survival. That had clearly not been the case, and at the time, I had simply concluded that I had never been wanted, and had been abandoned to die, and had instead fought for my survival on my own. Had I known what I do now, my outlook might have been different. Perhaps I could have returned her love? It would have been so very easy, to pull her into my arms, murmuring sweet nothings. We could have ridden off into the sunset… started a new life. Although our troop had been low on funds, what was left in the bank accounts could have sustained two civilians for ages, well long enough to get common jobs… enough to live in a decent apartment.

But it was never meant to be…

"That all you have to say?" I had questioned, watching the tears stream down her face as she prepared to die. By now, she seemed incapable of further words, and she pled with her eyes. "You're better off than me… you have a place to go home to." I had murmured, letting my mask slip for a brief second, a gesture that did not escape her. Her face brightened briefly, and she seemed ready to accept her fate. "Goodbye Midii." With finality at word words, she let her eyes slip shut as she stood before me, letting thing rest in the hands of fate.

In the brief moment her eyes stayed shut, I let a small smile grace my lips, before I fired off two brisk shots, and turned on my heel. I heard her gasp in realization as I walked away. The shots had simply killed the transmitters, and nothing more.

She called out to me, willing me to turn around once more, crying out "_Nanashi_" the Japanese derived term for no-name, another phrase I'd learned to recognize from a language I knew nothing of.

"You got the wrong guy." I called back to her, yet still carried on my way. "I'm not _Nanashi_. I'm simply a traveler, looking for a place to go home to…"

I never once turned back. Never looked to see how long she stood there nor the expression upon her face, I simply walked on. A last kind gesture to her, I left the motorcycle, instead choosing to walk wherever I chose to go. As I walked off into the sunset, I could hear the engine start in the distance. I had hoped she would find her own peace of mind, but I'll never know if it happened in the end.

Perhaps Midii taught me a thing or two in that experience… perhaps not. All I do know is how very much I was reminded of her, as you stepped out onto that platform. Perhaps it was because of her that I found myself so very willing to trust you, without reason?

After leaving Midii behind, I walked until my legs would carry me no more, and camped just outside the city until day break. I slept very little without the comfort of the troop and the supplies of camp, but I managed. In the morning I hit every bank within the city limits, withdrawing the contents of every account my late troop of rebels held. I bought a bag's worth of rations, and set off on the noon train, and carried myself from Frankfurt, all the way to Paris. I had made up my mind… I would go to space. I would put my skills to good use, find a name to call my own and perhaps someday, a place to call home.

I wasted no time, and mere hours after arriving in Paris, I was walking through Air Paris' shuttle port, and fastening my seat belt on a one way flight to the L3 colony cluster.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Questions? Comments? Concerns?

Review!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two yay!

Hope you all enjoyed chapter one, and that you've come back for this one as well.

Remember to let me know what you think!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I had arrived on L3 thirteen hours later. I managed to sleep through much of the flight, after getting past the awe that erupted from within at the sight of the Earth from space. After the events that had occurred back in Germany over the last several days, I was mentally and physically drained, and had welcomed the long slumber perched in the thick cushioned seats of the shuttle. Half way through the flight I was awakened, and given food provided by the airlines. I scarfed it down rapidly, and savored its taste. The food was unlike anything the soldiers ever provided. I made a solid oath, before drifting back off into slumber, that I WOULD learn to cook for myself, and experience the joys of palatable food, and the variety of it the Earth and colonies provided.

The shuttle touched down smoothly, and within minutes, the dozens of civilians filed out. I walked closely behind a large family, in order to blend in with the group. I had wanted to avoid potential questioning. It wasn't every day that a young teenager traveled into space. I had carried my little bit of luggage with my onto the flight, which made my escape out onto the street all the more easier. I never looked back.

I spent the night in a cheap motel a mile east of the docking station, and enjoyed the comfort of my first night in a real bed. I took advantage of the cheap, provided breakfast the following morning, and left shortly after. I had no real plans for action. The choice in colony had simply been due to wanting the first flight out after my arrival. To my delight, the L3 colony cluster held those primarily of German decent, and thus I spoke the two most widely spoken languages of the colony. It was to my advantage.

I spent several months taking odd jobs, living in run down motels, and acclimating to the oddities only provided by the colonies, such as city, as far as the eyes can see. Unlike the Earth, there was no sky, no horizon, only a seemingly endless sphere of metal and human activity.

I focused on my skills, taking jobs that required strenuous amounts of physical activity. It was difficult to get full time, legit jobs with no form of identification, and my under age status did little to help matters. I continued my studies, spending large amounts of time in the library, whenever I was not working or sleeping through the night. I switched locations every so often, remaining inconspicuous as I went. I began to shop, and cook for myself, just as I had planned. In no time at all I was cooking full meals. I would eat leftovers the very next day, never wasting. I led a mediocre existence, but I was surviving. I blended in with society, but had no urge to join it. The people I met, those who I worked with, became nothing more than acquaintances, nothing more than faces with names. As the years went on, little to nothing changed.

As I aged, more job opportunities opened up to me. I began to yearn for familiarity. I missed large machinery. I began working with mechanics, repairing vehicles. As my abilities were realized, I moved up in status. Eventually, I sealed in placement with the shuttle port, and signed on as a live in mechanic. I was given my own small room on the property, with little more than a twin bed and a chest, but it was home. I made my own breakfast and dinner in the kitchens, but ate lunch with the other employees.

In the outside world, military power became stronger, more influential. The alliance back on Earth became ruthless, and began seizing control of Earth's states one by one. It was of no surprise to myself when the battles reached space. The colonies themselves had minuscule armies, just enough force to defend themselves. I noticed immediately when more and more military ships arrived in the hangers, even more so when they began to arrive battle damaged. Like a good little staff member, I carried out my repairs without questions.

During a late night run to the kitchens, I came across soldiers conversing in the halls. They had come in on a damaged ship earlier in the day. I concealed myself within the shadows to hear them out. They had been in a scuffle miles off of the colony so it turned out. Not only was their ship damaged, but so were several Aries mobile suits, that were docked in the restricted zone. Repairs were to be made the following few days. I made my way to the kitchens eventually, and fixed myself a bit to eat. I grabbed a water bottle at my retreat, and instead of returning to my room, I set off to the restricted hangers. It was a risk, I admit, but I WANTED that risk. Being a soldier was all I had known for much of my life. I missed the mobile suits, I missed the adrenalin… I missed feeling alive.

There were four Aries suits, and a space modified Leo in the hanger, with varying degrees of damage. There was no security patrolling, I assumed due to knowledge of the hanger's contents being minimal at the time.

I bee-lined for the Leo suit and caressed the massive foot in nostalgia. In no time at all, I had prepped the repair station, and was off repairing the damaged left elbow. I worked through the night, moving from the crushed elbow joint, to replacing melted sensors, and reconstructing the right thruster on the space pack. I got caught up in my work, having missed my own Leo, a magnificent seven metric tons of titanium alloy. Perhaps I intended to be caught?

As morning came around, the soldiers filed in to attempt repairs on their suits. In the light, I could not recognize their uniforms, as they were neither belonging to the alliance forces, nor the organization known as OZ. An uproar commenced almost immediately, and I put up no fight when I was dragged off the platform, and forced to my knees while the owner of the Leo suit inspected his property. I watched the soldiers watch their own comrade as he stepped from the mobile suit. I could see the confusion thickly lacing their features as the man returned, shaking his head with a chuckle.

"Suit's fine… in near perfect condition." He had said, meeting my gaze.

"What the kid do to it?" The grip on my shoulders was tightened briefly, before the owner of the Leo pried it from me. The men responded awkwardly to his, backing away from me.

"Not a damned thing. Must have been up all night repairing it, this one… Thruster's at top condition, sensors replaced, arm repaired. Seems we should be thanking him, not condemning him."

"Tch… lad was probably planning to nice it and get off the colony!"

I listened to them bicker back and forth before I was addressed personally.

"Kid, pretty silent in a serious situation, ain't ya? What's your defense?"

I felt all eyes on me, and became very uncomfortable, but after a few short moments, mustered up enough will to speak.

"I spent several years on earth with a small military group. They taught me to repaired their mobile suits, and trucks, and had me do so in exchange for food and a place to stay." It was a half-truth, but reveling that I had gone into battle with my own suit might have fueled the one man's claims of me stealing the suit after repairs.

"Is that so?"

I simply nodded.

"Well then… go off and get some rest. Perhaps if you get those suits in tip top shape in the next couple of days, I'll feel less inclined to report you for breaking in and tampering with the foundation's suits. My men and I could use a break, and they aren't gonna get that if their fixing their own shit."

The men stared as he wrenched me to my feet, and gave a rough shove at my back.

"Very well…" I had murmured, before making a slow and steady retreat.

I returned to my room, and lay staring at the ceiling until I fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke with a plan.

I had become bored with life as I knew it. I wanted to be a part of something once again. I wanted to pilot once more.

I ate a quick but hearty breakfast, and made my way to the hanger to begin repairs on the four Aries suits. I worked long hard hours meticulously making repairs to various sensors and thrusters. Several pieces of the armor had to be completely replaced, and I was required to load and operate the lifts for the first time in my life. The whole project was filled with firsts. I had never touched an Aries suit, let alone repaired one, but to my relief they had the same general feel as the Leo type suits.

One suit in particular needed time consuming repair to its fusion reactor. The other suits must have carried it into the dock manually, as the suit was void of power.

For two days I slept very little, but time and detail were the keys to my mission. I had to be thorough. I brought most of my meals to the hanger with me and ate gradually throughout the day. I was never once checked on, and the whole affair had me feel as though I was being tested. I welcomed it, and worked for the top score

In two complete days, I had managed to restore all four Aries to complete working order. I was in the middle of restoring the paint jobs to all five suits when the soldiers entered the hanger. I did not turn to them to seek their approval, instead I simply continued spraying. I listened carefully to their conversations as I worked, and was pleased that they stood impressed.

Upon completion, I joined them on the ground, determined to ensure that my plan had succeeded.

It had.

"I hate to say it kid, but we're impressed. You finished them all in just a few short days, all by your lonesome. Gave us two blissful days of rest and relaxation too. If we could get work completed like that all the time, we wouldn't have to worry about things as much as we do. Our own repair technicians on base are lazy asses, and it takes them just as long to do a half-baked job on a single mobile suit." He chuckled.

Taking the bait, I interrupted.

"What are you getting at, Sir?"

Several of the other men let smirks slip onto their faces.

"How about you ditch this civilian shuttle port, and sign on with the people trying to make a difference. Join our organization, and you could be working with mobile suits on a daily basis. Hell, prove yourself enough, and they might let you pilot one someday. The possibilities are endless. What say you?"

I stayed silent, leading them to believe I was thinking the situation over, weighing the pros and cons. Little did they know, they were following my plan, rather than their own.

"How are your facilities? They provide merely the minimal for us workers here."

At this, the man broke off into laughter.

"For you kid, we can guarantee a full sized single. Hell, you can even have a mini fridge."

One of the other men laughed as well.

"When can I start?" I crossed my arms over my chest, holding my ground.

"Pack your things. We leave in two days. I expect you here to help load the suits onto the shuttle. We're staying L3 territory, but on one of the smaller segments. You can have a few days to settle yourself, but then we'll work your ass off. That all right with you?" He huffed, mimicking my position.

"Yes." I replied, before turning on my heel to return to my quarters.

I was stopped almost immediately.

"What's your name kid?"

I turned to the man, and shook my head.

"Don't have one."

He regarded me oddly for a moment before sighing.

"Such a mysterious brat you are. Fine, No-name… You'll be dealing with me most often. The name's Trowa Barton, and my father runs the foundation. You best stay in line kid."

As I returned to my room, a large sense of accomplishment washed over me, and for the first time in a longtime, I felt content.

I didn't know it at the time, but this chain of events set everything in place. Had I not acted when I had, I might still be repairing shuttles, or have ended up worse off in the deteriorating universe. I would have never gained a name. I would have never become a Gundam pilot, never would have gone to earth. Would not have joined up with the circus, and worst of all… I'd have never met you.

I had packed my bag that night, not wasting any time. I slept well, and went back to my typical day's work the next day. Before night fall I had already gone discussed my leaving with my employer. For once in my life, someone was sad to see me leave, even if it was for selfish reasons. He gave me a bonus that night, a parting gift I suppose. That night was spent restless, and I managed little sleep, but it was enough.

I went to the hanger early in the morning, much to Barton's relief, and spent the day aiding his men with loading their shuttle. Before I had realized it, this man and I had become perhaps the closest thing I had experience to friends. He felt the connection more than I had, I suppose.

The flight itself was short lived, unlike the flight into space. We arrived on colony L3, X-18999, within thirty minutes, but unloading took hours. Barton escorted me to my living quarters, four times the size of my old room. It made me feel as though I had been living in a cell during my time with the shuttle port.

I realized all too soon that I had clearly gotten in with the wrong military group. Because I was easily disposable, or so they thought, and one Trowa Barton had vouched for me himself, no one bothered to hide their intentions, or their battle plans.

The Barton Foundation, headed by the one and only Dekim Barton, had been formed likely before my time. They were a well put together force, with the financial backing to do as they pleased. As I worked on the mobile suits for the pilots, the soldiers gossiped more than the average teenage girl.

They wanted to revolt against Earth, go to war. The colony of X-18999, completed a few short years ago had initially been created for the sole purpose of being dropped onto the planet. The Bartons wanted to gain control of the Earth, their reasons weren't clear.

As promised, I was put to work almost as soon as I was settled in, repairing mobile suits left and right as they came in damaged. Within the first month, I had discovered several dirty little secrets they were constructing.

I wandered the base most nights, unable to sleep through them without wondering just what was going on inside the walls that contained me. I explored the hangers that I was not stationed in thoroughly. In no time at all, I had come across a beautiful piece of machinery, unlike anything I had ever seen. It might have just been the basic frame at the time, but immediately, I knew I wanted in on it.

I waited days before approaching the man that brought me to the colony, but I was blunt with my requests.

"What model is the frame in hanger G-3?"

Barton jumped as I spoke from the shadows as he walked down the hall. He paused, and waited for me to show myself before letting out a bark of a laugh.

"Well, considering how we met, I guess I shouldn't be surprised…" He laughed, crossing his arms. "That there is my pride and joy. Crafted completely in gundanium alloy, with a hell of a lot of fire power, or at least it will, once complete."

"Gundanium?" I was curious. It was a metal I had not once heard of until then.

"Hell of a lot stronger than titanium. Only able to be manufactured in space. Near indestructible."

"So a new model then. To help conquer the Earth?"

He snorted.

"Figures… guess I shouldn't be surprised. You WERE the only one out of the loop, and the men around here babble their damn heads off." He huffed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. "Fine. Yeah. That's the idea anyway."

"Can I help? With the construction I mean."

He stared me down for a while before sighing and shaking his head.

"That ain't up to me kid. That's all on the Doc. He's the brains behind the suit. If you wanna try and work on my Heavyarms, you take that up with him. But this isn't your normal mobile suit."

"I like a challenge." I shrugged, pausing a moment. "Heavyarms?"

"That's what we named the suit. She'll be a beauty when completed. Good luck with the doctor. If by chance he lets you put your hands on her, fuck her up, and I'll kill ya. Got it, No-name?" He laughed as he started back down the hallway, and I couldn't help but feel a bit irked that an in production mobile suit had a name, when I, well into my teen years still did not.

The following day, I confronted this Doctor, and pled my case. He was leery, to say the least. Said he would think about it. I would learn several days later that he consulted Barton on the matter. I was in the middle of eating lunch the day Doktor S approached me. I was given permission to work on the Gundam Heavyarms, on a week-long trial to prove my worth.

Needless to say, I did not disappoint.

Construction of the mobile suit was long and arduous, but I never grew tired of it. It really was a beautiful machine, although I suppose we all felt that way about our individual gundams.

Construction went on for months. On occasion, I took a break and did repairs on the simpler suits. As Heavyarms neared completion, guards were put in position to keep soldiers and other prying eyes away. I was given a special clearance pass to access the hanger, and could not help feeling slightly euphoric that I was in on something long time foundation members were not. On days that I was not working on the gundam, or other suits, I spent my time in the hanger even still. Eventually, I was being booked for guard duty on top of construction. Never the less, I was content.

With time, I gained more information on the Barton Foundation, and their plans.

"Hey you! No-name!" I'd looked up to see Barton making his way towards me, grin plastered across his face. I acknowledge him quickly with a brief nod. "How's my Heavyarms?" He asked, looking over her from head to toe approvingly.

"Fine." I replied, even though the man knew as much.

"Let me show you something." He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, invading my person space. I flinched at the sudden contact, but I resisted the sudden instinctive urge to attack the man I'd come to know well. He showed me a small piece of paper, which tuned out to be a photograph. "My sister's baby girl, Mariemaia. I thought she died in the same accident as my sister, but they found her. After we take the Earth… we're gonna make her Queen!"

I raised an eyebrow at this.

"Is that so?"

He had laughed, but he released me.

"Yeah, I know. She's just a little thing. My old man will be pulling the ropes mostly, but she's a better image to look at than him."

"If you think so."

He sighed, and cocked his head at me.

"Well, my father offered me the job, but I'm no good at politics, and don't particularly like people. So he's been coaching her since her return."

"Hmm…"

Barton had given an exasperated sigh.

"You don't really care about much do you, No-name? Best work on those people skills, else you'll end up alone." He had muttered, before glancing up longingly at Heavyarms, and leaving the hanger once more.

I didn't put much thought into his words at the time. I was content with the way I was, and felt no need for change. It was only after meeting you, that I realized how much I distanced myself from society, and how very little I knew about family, friendship, and especially love.

Things went on as normal, and before I knew it, I had been with the Barton Foundation for over a year. Construction of the Gundam Heavyarms was eventually at near completion, and I had gone back to repairing the standard Leo and Aries model suits as I had done before. On occasion, I slipped back into the hanger to work on the last tidbits of the gundam, but Doktor S was doing most of the final touches himself.

However, it was during one of my days of tinkering, that I unintentionally set myself up for the man I was to become.

"WHAT! Target only OZ? You're changing the plan, Doktor S!"

Trowa Barton erupted into a fit of rage directly in front of Heavyarms. I nearly slammed my head into the gundanium shell of the Heavyarms' foot as the sudden noise shocked me out of my concentration. I was only barely able to stop myself, and sit in silence as I listened to the argument evolve. Eventually, I shifted just enough to see what was going on.

"Operation Meteor will kill twenty billion people on Earth. Is that not going too far for the sake of a mission?" Doktor S protested, attempting to make Barton see reason, but such a thing was hopeless. I had known one Trowa Barton for over a year, and his views on the galaxy were clearly warped beyond reason.

"You don't want us to take the Earth, do you, TRAITOR! You're jealous that once we take over, the Barton family will be in charge." He snarled. "I'm telling my father! I'll carry out Operation Meteor, and the people of Earth-!"

I had watched as the man beside Doktor S whipped out his pistol and shakily pointed it at Trowa Barton, pulling the trigger. The kind Doctor at his side jumped, and grimaced, as the large man dropped to the ground, dead upon impact.

"Now you've done it!" The man groaned shaking his head.

"I'm sorry… I have family on Earth. I just couldn't allow that to happen." The man murmured, lowering his weapon.

Although I had clearly not planned this sudden event, I felt that I could take advantage of the situation, and perhaps save the lives of the kind Doctor, and the frightened yet brave soldier at his side. With determination, I closed my tool box half-hazardly letting the dropped lid clatter and echo through the hanger.

"Who's there! Show yourself!" The soldier raised his gun in my direction, panic renewed as he paled and shook before me, clearly fearing that he had been discovered all too soon. I stepped from the shadows behind Heavyarms with my hands in the air.

"I don't have a name. I'm no one." I stated bluntly, walking towards them. "Kill me if you want… but you would be throwing away an opportunity, to fix that which you caused."

The man's grip tightened on the trigger, but the Doctor raised an arm to stop him.

"Hold it! They'll find out eventually regardless." The man said with a sigh, meeting my gaze. I suppose he had only hesitated, due to the long hours he had watched me over the course of the last year.

"Doktor S…" The soldier murmured, and regretfully lowered his gun.

"I have no attachment to the Earth." I broke the silence, regaining the attention of the two men.

"What?"

"I could take his place. I could take his name."

"You would pilot Heavyarms in his place?" The Doctor seemed shocked by my suggestion. Later in Operation Meteor, he had explained that he had found my proposal brave, and at the same time Suicidal. To my understanding, none of the five gundam scientist were expecting us to survive the war, yet at the same time, did not wish us dead. I suppose it's understandable.

"I've become fond of this mobile suit." I dropped my arms, and chanced a glance up at the fire engine red suit known as a Gundam. "Life here is not bad… but battlefields have suited me better."

"…Sir?" The soldier had stood trembling at the man's side, the seriousness of his deed slowly sinking in.

Doktor S stared for quite some time, looking over me, seemingly trying to judge whether or not I was being serious, or simply trying to save my own ass. From the beginning, I was sure he could see right through me, that he knew I had made myself known purposely, that I was simply looking for purpose in my life. Then, without warning, a smirk skirted across his face.

"Alright. From this day forth, you are now Trowa Barton. You will carry out Operation Meteor as you see fit. I leave it to you. Take the gundam to earth."

"Roger that."

I stocked Heavyarms to the brim with non-perishable food rations, and a gym bag crammed with a blanket and what few article of clothing I wished to take. Doktor S stocked my storage with ammo, and a plethora of disassembled fire arms, and of course… one body bag containing the former Trowa Barton, which I was to dispose of once on Earth.

Before taking off, I was given the frequencies in which to contact the doctor, and the account numbers to several bank accounts to draw my funds from.

I was going back to Earth after all, but this time, I had a purpose…


End file.
